TITLE: Forsaken
AUTHOR: Heather Stone ao662@hwcn.org
RATING: this part is PG-13, but part 3 is definitely R
CATEGORY: Angst, MSR-- yep, if you don't like MSR flee in
terror now!
SUMMARY: Post-colonization story. How does Scully cope after
Mulder disappears?
FEEDBACK: Please! This is my first attempt at MSR, not to
mention the first time I've written anything this long. I
would love to hear what everyone thinks. Thank you!
ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just please let me know first.
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me and I didn't ask to borrow
them. You could try and sue me, but I'm just a poor undergrad so you won't
get very much.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks are most definitely in order for my
wonderful beta readers! Thank you to Jenn Clark, Shipper13,
and Annie Sewell-Jennings for all your support and
suggestions. I can't thank you ladies enough-- you are the
best!
*****
"Forsaken" by Heather Stone
I dreamt last night that I was Rapunzel, alone and silent in
my personal stone tower. My hair had grown so long and heavy
that I could barely hold my head up any more. Long red locks
surrounded me, covering the floor like a carpet, covering my
body like a blanket. I lay on the stone floor with nothing
more to do but wait and pray for my valiant prince to arrive
and save me from my prison. After many years he finally did
arrive. He bade me to let down my hair so that he might climb
up and rescue me. But I could not do it. I did not have the
strength to throw down my hair. The burden was too heavy and I
could not lift it. Despite all his good intentions there was
nothing he could do to help me. My prince eventually gave me
up as a lost cause and left me alone to die, forsaken and
forlorn.
* * * * * * * * *
The alarm buzzed with loud determination. Dana Scully groaned
as she hit the snooze button. For just a moment she
contemplated playing hooky. She quickly shoved the thought
aside; staying in bed all day alone with her thoughts would
give her no pleasure. Not that her job gave her much pleasure
these days either, but at least it gave her a purpose, kept
her mind occupied.
Grudgingly she rose and went through the motions of preparing
herself for the day ahead. She wondered vaguely why she even
bothered. It felt like she no longer living her life for
herself, and she was beginning to wonder why she continued
living at all.
It had been less than twelve months since Scully had
been transferred to the federally operated research lab although
somedays it felt like years ago. She had not liked the idea of
the reassignment; while she was intrigued at the opportunity
to use her scientific training again, she did not like the
reality of being out of the field. She had chosen not to fight
the transfer. There seemed to be very little point that it
would be if any use.
Besides, the world was a different place now. You had to do
as you were told or risk the consequences. Co-operation was
the key to survival.
Scully was told that she was necessary. She was told that as
long as she fulfilled the new role assigned to her she would
be kept safe. They had kept their word.
Scully now spent her days studying the effectiveness of
various human engineered viruses, and occasionally vaccines.
She knew that she was now working for the wrong side. The
irony was not lost on her. She knew that every day she was
helping the very people that she and Mulder had fought against
for so long. But things were not the same as they were back
then.
For one thing, there was no Mulder anymore.
Scully sighed to herself as she drove to work. She did not
like to dwell on that part of her reality. When she
considered what her life had become since her partner's sudden
departure she was filled with rage and despair. She felt
herself stuck in a limbo, without the power to go forward but
unable to go back either.
It had been almost a year now since she last saw Mulder. One
night she was speaking to him on the phone and the next
morning he had vanished without a trace. Both his home phone
and cell phone numbers were suddenly disconnected, his
apartment emptied of all signs of his existence. Scully spent
that night at his place, searching until dawn for clues:
fingerprints, hair and fibre, *anything* to go on. Of course
she found nothing, not even a stray print of Mulder's. They
had worked quickly and efficiently. The place was completely
clean, as though he had been erased.
Scully remembered being called into Skinner's office the
following morning. He told her that he had gotten word that
Mulder had been "taken care of." Scully remembered vividly the
sinking feeling in her stomach, the salty tears streaming down
her cheeks. The details got a little blurry after that though.
She couldn't really remember getting from Skinner's office to
her apartment. And she didn't remember how long she slept
before awakening to find Skinner camped out on her couch.
Painfully, she did remember crying on his shoulder while he
rocked her and stroked her hair.
They "took care of" Skinner a week later.
One by one Scully had watched helplessly as the people she
once knew vanished. Byers was the first to go. She often
wondered why they took him first. Maybe it was because he used
to be a government employee. Maybe they thought he would be
useful. Maybe he was just the easiest to get rid of. She would
probably never know. Frohike was next. Funny how they got to
the both of them before they went after Mulder. Scully began
to wonder if maybe the boys were on to more then she ever gave
them credit for.
After Frohike vanished Langley went into hiding. He told
Mulder that he wasn't about to wait around to follow his
buddies. Once a week for Mulder received short, cryptic
e-mails sent from an anonymous account that they figured were
from Langley. They stopped after about a two months.
Despite the loss of his friends, Mulder always believed that he
and Scully would be safe. <> he said. <> Scully believed him. What choice did she have?
The alternatives were far too horrifying.
No one was quite sure what happened to those who disappear and
no one had the courage to question it. After things started
to change rumours about what happened to the missing ran
rampant. Many assumed they were simply killed, swiftly
disposed of. Others suspected a more Orwellian re-education
scenario.
Scully just tried her damnedest not to think about it at all.
* * * * * * * *
Nights are the hardest times. I do not sleep much anymore.
When I do manage to find slumber I am met with horrifying
images. Blurry faces of white coated men melting into the
sickly face of my young daughter. Swarms of bees and cold
greenish goo.
A half realized kiss in a dingy hallway.
Memories too painful to allow my mind to conjure up while
conscious come to me in my dreams. In the light of day I can I
bury myself in lab reports and case reviews. I can try to
convince myself that my new bureau assignment is at least as
stimulating as my work on the X-files had been.
Of course I know it is a lie. I miss the excitement and
challenge of investigation. I miss everything about it, even
the bad parts: the long nights, the seedy motels, the airplane
food. I miss my gun. I still have a weapon of course, but I do not have
much of an opportunity to use it in the research lab.
Most of all I miss *him*.
Damn Mulder for doing this to me! What gave him the right to
leave me with no explanation? I deserved more from him.
I know it is not his fault for leaving. I know I shouldn't
blame him, and I don't really. It wasn't his choice to leave
me. That doesn't make living without him any easier though.
This was not the way it was supposed to happen. There was
always the promise of so much more. The promise of truth. The
promise of happiness. The promise of a future.
I have no future anymore.
* * * * * * * * *
Scully watched the rain falling outside her window. The
sheets of heavy rain had almost a hypnotic effect on her.
Somewhere deep in her mind she was aware that her co-workers
were staring at her, confused and perhaps even worried at her
distraction. It was not like Scully to take her mind off of
her work, but she was mesmerised by the storm's intensity, its
strength. This was not a gentle shower; the wind blew with
gale force as the clouds poured forth with a vengeance. Scully
was glad that it was raining that day.
It was the one year anniversary of Mulder's disappearance.
It was fitting somehow, that the heavens would choose to
mark this day with such a passionate display of anger and
violence. Scully felt like the sky was acting out the feelings
she would not let herself express. It was almost as if God
were sending another deluge upon the earth, punishing and
destroying all humankind for their sins.
As gruesome as it sounded, Scully saw a sort of nihilistic
hope in such a scenario. True, the great deluge had wiped out
humanity. It had destroyed and it had killed. But it had, for
a time, washed away the mess that man had created. The flood
provided a new chance for a better world.
A new hope for the future.
And at that particular moment in time that didn't seem like
such a bad idea to Scully.
* * * * * * * * *
One year earlier
Scully awoke in a state of confusion. She found herself lying
in her own bed, wearing her work clothing. she
thought. Her
head was throbbing and she felt a little sick to her stomach.
Rubbing wearily at her eyes she tried vainly to figure out
when and how she got home. The sky was purple and pink,
indicating that the sun was setting. she wondered.
Mulder.
Suddenly things became clearer. Her worst fears had been
realized. Mulder was gone. He hadn't shown up for work. She
tried to phone him but found his numbers disconnected. She
went to his apartment and found it empty. Completely empty-- no
furniture, no fish tank, and certainly no Mulder.
Then Skinner had confirmed it. He had received a call informing him that
Mulder would no longer be working for the bureau. What was it they had
said? They had "taken care" of Mulder.
Scully stumbled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. As
she opened her door she could hear the quiet murmur of voices
emanating from her television. She crept into to living room
and saw a figure asleep on her couch. Her heart soared and for
a moment and she wondered if it was all a bad dream. But then
the figure shifted to reveal its identity: Skinner.
"Sir?" she asked wearily, a little surprised at how small her
voice sounded.
Skinner manoeuvred himself into a sitting position. "Are you
feeling better?"
she wondered. "I don't know," she stated.
The last thing she remembered was hearing that Mulder was
really gone. She did not recall how she had felt and how she
had reacted although she had a feeling it was not pretty.
Silence hung heavy in the air. Skinner watched her
uncomfortably. She was a mess: clothing wrinkled, hair
dishevelled, smeared eye makeup. It made him nervous seeing
her this way. He was used to Special Agent Scully, always in
control of herself and her situation. Seeing her looking
vulnerable was just *wrong*.
"Do you think he's dead?"
Skinner was startled by the starkness of her voice. "I don't
know," he answered softly.
"It seems likely, doesn't it," She phrased her words as more
like a statement than a question.
"We can't know that for certain," he answered. Skinner felt
himself in the awkward position of trying to comfort her
without giving her false hopes. He did not believe that her
partner had been killed, but at the same time he did believe
that Scully would probably never see Mulder again.
"After this all began Mulder told me that we would be safe.
For all his paranoia, his claims that he trusted no one, he
was sure that they would leave us alone. He figured that if
they had really wanted us dead, they would have killed us by
now."
"Did you believe him?" Despite his personal feelings that
Mulder was alive Skinner could not help but question that
mentality. It seemed foolish considering the number of
attempts on their lives over their years.
"Well it made sense really. They certainly had ample
opportunity," she answered, her voice gaining strength. "If
they had wanted to kill me they could have done so rather than
abducting me. They could have shot me in the head rather than
given me cancer. There must have been some purpose in letting
us survive this long." Scully's mind began to consider the
implications of this notion. "Someone must have believed
Mulder could serve some sort of purpose."
"You think he's alive?"
Scully sighed. "I think I need to find out for certain."
"You can't go after him."
"I have to go after him! I refuse to accept this without a
fight. If the situation was reversed Mulder would do the same
for me," she paused catching her breath. "Mulder *has* done
the same for me."
"Agent Scully, whoever did this obviously meant to separate
you and Agent Mulder. Whether he is alive or dead right now is
of little consequence."
Scully bristled at his words. "They've tried to separate us
before, but Mulder never gave up on me. I have to do the same
for him."
"Things are different now. You have nothing to go on, and you
have no official channels to go through. We both know that
the authorities will be no help to you. There will be no
police search, there will be no bureau search. There's
nothing you can do."
"He needs me," she stated simply. The tears had begun to fall
down her face.
"If you go after him they will know. They will find you and
they will kill you. What purpose could your death possibly
serve?"
"How do you know that? How can you be so sure that I won't be
able to hide from them?" she asked defiantly. Mulder had saved
her in the past. Why shouldn't she be able to return the
favour?
Skinner didn't answer. Instead, he reached over and placed a
finger at the base of her neck. Her blood ran cold. The implant.
"Oh God," she murmured. The full horror of the situation was
falling into place. If the device could be used to track her
she could never do anything without their knowledge. If she
removed it she could die. Her punishment was her choice:
lifetime imprisonment or a hasty death sentence. Almost
unconsciously she leaned into the man before her. She felt
his arms wrap stiffly around her own.
"I'm sorry."
Scully buried her head into his shoulder and cried until she
fell asleep.
* * * * * * * *
"Agent Scully?"
"Hmm?" The sound of her name broke Dana Scully out of her
reverie. She blinked and looked over in the direction of the
voice. It belonged to Agent Vadera, a young man who started
work at the lab about a month after she had. Of all the people
in her division Scully liked him the best. Not that she had
really attempted to get to know anyone she worked with; all
she had seen and all she had lost had left her with a healthy
dose of paranoia. She didn't feel she could trust her
co-workers. But Vadera was different somehow. He was quiet,
did his work with as little interaction with his co-workers as
possible. Though she had never spoken with him about anything
besides their projects, she had a feeling that they shared a
similar history. Vadera had an air of sadness surrounding
him.
And a small pink scar on the base of his neck.
"Someone just dropped this off for you." He handed Scully a
thin envelope.
"Do you know what it is?" Scully examined the envelope.
"Uh, no. The guy just said it was for you."
"What guy? Was it someone you recognized?" Scully demanded,
her body tensing.
"No. It was just some delivery kid. Is something wrong?"
Scully sighed, "No." She had no reason to interrogate Vadera
and she could she that she was making him nervous. "Thanks
Vadera."
He nodded and quickly scurried back of to his work station.
Glancing at her watch Scully decided that it was late enough
that no one would question if she left. She hastily shoved the
envelope into her pocket, cleared off her desk, and grabbed
her coat.
She did not open the letter until she was in her own
apartment. Though in the back of her mind she knew that her
apartment could very well be under surveillance Scully always
felt safest when she was alone there.
With shaking hands she opened the envelope. A single slip of
paper with a short type written message was all she found
inside. It read: "Reflecting Pool 9:30 tonight."
Scully reread it twice as if hoping to find some hidden
message. But none was to be found. The note was clear. Her
heart was pounding in her chest. The first thought that entered her mind
was that it was from him, that Mulder was coming for her.
Of course it could just as easily be a trap. Perhaps she had
outworn her usefulness to the men who had kept her alive.
Perhaps she would too wind up being spirited away in the night,
her existence erased, no clues left behind for her weeping
mother.
It didn't really matter. She had to go either way. She had to
break free of her prison no matter what the future held.
The storm was ending and the new beginning was at hand.
* * * * * *
The wind blew softly around Scully, swirling her red hair
around her face. She shivered a little, wishing that she
had dressed a little more warmly. The seasons had shifted and
Scully had barely noticed. But now out in the chilly November
night air she could not avoid the reality of the world around her.
Scully did not feel like the same person she was a year ago.
When she bothered to look closely in the mirror she could not
ignore the physical effects of the long sleepless nights.
Sometimes she could barely recognize herself. But this did
not concern her as much as the numbness she felt. Scully had
trained herself not to think about what had happened in the
past, or what the future might hold. She had trained herself
not to feel anything anymore.
She wondered idly about what would happen to her if this
meeting was a set-up. Scully knew it was a distinct
possibility. In a few minutes she could very well find herself
swept away by the same forces that had taken Mulder from her.
Would it be like when she abducted? Or would they kill her
this time? It did not matter really; it would offer her the escape that
she so desperately needed. She was ready to be rescued and right now it
didn't matter whether it was by the good guys or the bad.
It was awfully hard to tell the difference these days anyway.
Scully sighed and looked at her watch. Whoever had contacted
her was a half an hour late. She wondered how much longer she
should wait.
Suddenly she heard a rustling, and felt the bench buckle a
little as someone sat down beside her. Scully took a deep
breath. This was it; The moment of truth had arrived.
"I didn't know if you'd come."
That voice. Despite all her effects to wash the memories of
him from her mind she knew that voice in an instant. She
turned around slowly, savouring the moment.
Her prince had arrived.
"Mulder," she whispered. Scully tried to move but found
herself paralyzed. She stared at him, not sure if he were
real, and prayed to God that she wasn't hallucinating.
He reached out and touched her face. Scully shivered at the
feel of his skin on hers. She leaned her head into his hand,
savouring the sensation. It was real. *He* was real.
Brushing her own fingers across his face she murmured. "I
thought I'd never see you again."
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."
Scully blinked back tears. "What happened? What did they do to
you?"
Mulder tensed. "I don't want to talk about it right now," he
answered hoarsely. All he wanted to do was to touch her, to be
with her. "I missed you."
Scully smiled for what felt like the first time in months. "I
missed you too." Finally regaining movement, she slid her body
as close to him as she could and draped her arms around him.
As he pulled her close to him she let the tears roll down her
face. She was amazed to feel him again, grateful to let the
warmth of his body melt away the numbness she had experienced
for so long.
"You're shaking, Scully," a familiar trace of concern echoing
in his voice.
"I just can't believe that this is actually happening."
He pulled away and took her hand. "Come on. I have a room on
the outskirts of town. We'll be safe there, at least for a
little while anyway."
Scully squeezed his hand tightly and followed him. She didn't
ask how he knew that the room was really a safe house. She
didn't really care. At that moment all that mattered was that
they were together again. They made the drive wordlessly.
Scully stared at him. She examined his face, tried to relearn
every beautiful feature, tried to shake the suspicion that he
had aged more than he should have.
Mulder's "room" was small and dreary, but they paid little
attention to their surroundings. Neither could take their eyes
off the other. Scully made her way on shaking legs over to the
bed, with Mulder following closely behind.
Mulder was the first to break the silence. "I wanted to call
you every day Scully. I wanted you to know that I was alive. I
wanted to hear you tell me that you were fine. The only thing
that kept me going was that they told me you were safe."
She caressed his face. "Where were you? What happened?" There
was so much she wanted to know. "Did they hurt you? Are you
all right?"
With a soft kiss to the palm of her hand, Mulder smiled. "I'm
just fine now." He pulled her into a tight embrace.
Scully closed her eyes. She was content to let herself get
lost in his arms. She trembled at the soft touch of his lips
on her forehead. He disentangled himself from her arms. With
one hand he tilted up her chin so that she could look him in
the eye, while the other hand moved up to run its long fingers
through her hair.
<>
Their lips met with ease. It barely registered to Scully that
this was their first kiss. The action felt like the most
natural thing in the world. It felt *right.*
Scully tugged at Mulder's shirt. She wanted to be the one to
initiate this. She needed to remind herself that she was
alive.
After all, it looked like she might have something to live for
again.
Mulder posed no complaint as Scully skilfully removed his
clothing, then her own, her mouth barely leaving his for more
than a second or two all the while. She kissed him hungrily,
savouring the taste of him.
Wordlessly, she pushed him down on the mattress. She revelled
in his low groans of pleasure, growing ever warmer at the
evidence of the effect she was having on him.
Neither needed any foreplay; this was not the time for hearts
and flowers. She just needed to be as close to him as
possible, to join herself with him. She needed it to be
certain that he was really here, that this was really
happening.
Everything else was forgotten as he entered her. The torture
of living without him, the uncertainty of what was to come...
none of it mattered at that moment. The world consisted of
nothing but the two of them.
They came almost simultaneously, each crying out the other's
name at the moment of climax.
After a reluctant separation, Mulder took Scully's hand in
his. "I love you, Scully. I want you to know that."
"I know. I've always known," she said huskily. "Just like deep
down you've always known that I love you too."
He smiled softly. There was nothing more that either of them
needed to say. It felt as if time had stopped. Without
another sound they fell asleep, completely unaffected by the
uncertainty of what was to follow.
* * * * * * * * *
Scully awoke and pulled the covers tight around her body. She
felt a peacefulness that she barely recognized. Night was
normally a bad time for her; a time where the quiet allowed
for little more than sadness and regret. But tonight the
silence was perfect
The perfection was suddenly marred by the sound of a stifled
sob. Scully's heart broke at the realization that they it
came from Mulder. She turned over to find Mulder sitting on
the edge of the bed, his frame racked with grief. Slowly, she
crept to his side and put her arms around him.
"I can't stay here much longer Scully. They'll know that I
came to you."
"I know," she whispered, her voice laced with sadness.
"They won't take kindly to this," he continued bitterly. "I'm
supposed to be grateful to them for keeping me alive. They
won't appreciate me repaying them like this."
Scully tasted bitter bile rise up in the back of her throat.
"So those who disappear really do die?"
"For the most part-- some people are used as test subjects
first. There are still experiments going on, some officially
sanctioned by the colonists, some not. But sooner or later
most become host bodies for the colonists. They kill two birds
with one stone so to speak: eliminate those who know too much,
and give the enemy what it wants.
"Some people, like me, are kept alive to assist in other ways.
Bureaucratic matters... organizing and executing the
abductions mainly," he paused. "But most people die.
"I have to keep moving, figure out what the hell I am going to
do next. I won't go back. I won't do their work anymore.
They'll have to kill me."
Scully was silent. She ached to think of what he may have been
though, longed to make him give her the details he withheld.
Planting a gentle kiss on his bare shoulder, she struggled to
blink back despondent tears. She was happy that he could not
see her. She had to be strong for him now.
She had to be strong for herself.
"You could come with me, Scully. We could go together."
With a deep breath Scully tried to hold her voice steady for
her response. She had known that the subject would come up and
she knew what she had to say. "I can't Mulder."
His body went perfectly still in her arms. "That's okay," he
said carefully, his voice cracking.
Scully winced. "Mulder..."
"No, Scully I mean it, I understand. You have a life here. It
would be wrong of me to expect you to give it up."
"Mulder listen to me. I *want* to go with you. I don't have a
life here anymore. I exist, but I am not really alive.
This past year without you has been pure hell. Being apart
from you has made me realize how much I need to be with you to
be happy."
He turned to face her. "Then what's stopping you?"
"The implant," she said, the tears now flowing freely. "After
you were taken I was found out that the implant has the
capacity to track me. If I go with you, they will find us. I
can't do that to you Mulder. I can't help them get to you."
Mulder brushed away her tears as best he could. "Scully, in
all likelihood they are going to get to me whether I am with
you or not. If you choose to stay behind because you are
afraid of being caught, I can understand that. If it is
because you don't want to live a life without stability or
rest, I can understand that too. But if you choose to stay
behind because you think it will save me, I won't accept that.
I know that it's crazy to think that they are ever going to
leave us alone if we are together. But I would rather live a
short life with you than a long one running alone."
Scully managed a weak smile. He had said exactly what she
wanted to hear. She still didn't like the feeling that she was
somehow leading him to the slaughter, but at least she had
made sure that he wasn't going unwittingly.
"We'll leave first thing in the morning."
* * * * * * * *
I awaken once again, this time in sheer terror. Shaking, I
snuggle closer to the man beside me. I had let myself sleep,
lulled myself into a false sense of security in my lover's
arms. But the nightmares had revisited me. Mulder's presence
alone was not enough to banish them.
I was Rapunzel again. Only this time I did find the strength
to let my prince up into my tower. He kissed me and promised
to take me away, promised that together we could escape the
hell. I believed him, for his heart was true and full of love.
But just as we were getting ready to make our escape, the
wicked queen arrived. She was angry for my disobedience, for
his tenacity. She banished me to a desert. A barren wasteland
far from all that I know, where I must wander alone. Worst of
all, she blinded my poor prince; punishment for trying to save
me.
I try to tell myself that it was only a dream, that it means
nothing. I try to take comfort in the grasp of his arm around
my waist. My sleeping prince. He chose to risk his safety to be
with me, agreed to resort to a life of running and hiding just
so long as I was at his side. Am I selfish for being glad that
he made this decision?
The tightness of his hold on me scares me. I can feel that he
is depending on me to save him just as strongly as I am on
him. I don't want to disappoint him, but I am afraid that
there is no escaping our fate. I know that this will not, can
not, last.
Once upon a time in a world far removed from today I told him
that I had no regrets about our life together. I still don't
regret getting involved with him. I don't regret loving him. I
don't regret having come to depend on his love for me.
But lying here beside him, I realize that I do have one now.
I regret that I cannot promise him a happy ending.
THE END
* * * * * * * *
Thank you for reading!
Please let me know what you thought. If you send me feedback I will love
you forever. ao662@hwcn.org